jailer
Evan’s body pressed against him was enough for Barty to be teetering on the edge of an orgasm. He had been holding back for what felt like hours but was probably only thirty minutes. He looked up at Evan, the boy being blanketed by a red light from the street, hand on the car window for support. The sight reduced Barty to incoherent moans and whimpers that he knew he would regret later. Normally, he could keep up a conversation during sex, he could be a bitch and force whoever he was fucking to be rougher, to ‘teach him a lesson’, though it was one he would never learn. But now, when he opened his mouth, all that came out was begging.
“Please, Ev, I’m so close,” he pleaded.
There was a knock on the window, causing the both of them to jump. For a moment, flashlight in his eyes, Barty could not tell who it was. Once his eyes focused, he realised it was a cop, looking at them with a disgust that Barty knew had less to do with the sex-in-the-back-of-a-car and more to do with the fact that they were both guys. He could not hold back a laugh, though it was somewhat pathetic with Evan stilll buried inside of him. Evan’s hand came down a little too hard on his shoulder, what Barty assumed was meant to be a gentle warning ending up more as a slap, that, against his will, only served to turn him on more.
Pulling out and dressing quickly as he could, Evan swallowed hard and rolled down the window. “Officer,” he mumbled, looking anywhere but at the man.
“You two can’t be parked here,” the cop said, looking between them.
“Er, yeah, sorry.” Evan coughed awkwardly, tugging Barty up by his t-shirt. “We’ll, uh, we’ll go right away. Sorry again.”
The officer let them go with a pointed look, and as he walked away and Barty climbed into the front seat, he tried a teasing grin and an awkward laugh, neither of which Evan returned. The drive back to Barty’s house was quiet. Barty had never dealt with silence well; he knew he spoke too much, too loudly, but he could not cope with the noise that came with the silence, little sounds here and there making his head hurt. If he could be the loudest thing around, he could keep his mind quiet. But Evan clearly did not want to speak, refusing to look at Barty even as he bore holes into the side of Evan’s face with his staring.
Evan pulled up just down the street from Barty’s house, but Barty was not ready to go home, he couldn’t go back there yet. He took off his seatbelt and tried to cup Evan’s face, pulling him in for another kiss and starting to take off his trousers. It was an excuse to stay a little longer, although neither had gotten off yet, so maybe Barty could kill two birds with one stone here. Barty took off his t-shirt, looking at Evan expectantly, as if bearing himself to the other boy. Look at me. Look what I can be for you. Please don’t make me go.
Regardless of his silent pleas, Evan pushed Barty off with an expression Barty was trying so hard to decipher but couldn’t. Evan had always been this way, unreadable, most especially when forced to acknowledge the things they were doing. Each time they’d had sex, Barty had thought it would be the last with the look Evan would give him. But every time Barty called, Evan came. So, Barty knew this was not the end of whatever this was. Still, he didn’t want to go home, he couldn’t face it yet, he needed Evan in some way. He wouldn’t get him, though, not with the way Evan was holding up his hands as though prepared to fend Barty off if he tried anything again.
-
“You really think I want to…do that? Right outside your house?” Evan spat, annoyance that was not his and not real coming out forcefully. “What’s wrong with you?” He laughed humourlessly, and tried not to soften at Barty’s dejected expression.
“Sorry,” Barty apologised, coughing and regaining his composure. He said nothing as he dressed and got out of the car, slamming the door closed and walking in the direction of his house. Evan watched as he hesitated for a moment before climbing the steps to his front door, and felt guilty that he had not let him stay.
Evan sighed and drove back to his house, sitting in the car for nearly ten minutes, wondering and wondering why he could not show Barty how he felt, past sex in the back of cars and hating every other guy Barty spent time with. Still, his body felt wrong, having been caught the way they had, the copper so clearly believing every vile thing that Evan thought of himself. How Barty, who had grown up with a father reminding him every second what a disgrace he was, had seemed to accept what he was with such ease, while Evan, who had been shown no sign of his parents’ love ever being conditional, could not, made no sense to him.
When Evan stepped through the door to his house, he was immediately greeted by the sight of his parents and siblings in the living room. Pandora looked up at him and smiled. “Good day?” Evan just shrugged.
“Ev! Ev! Will you play this game with us?” Felix asked hopefully, his missing two front teeth messing with his speech a little.
“Not right now, buddy,” Evan mumbled, ruffling Felix’s hair. “I’m gonna go shower.”
Felix pouted but didn’t complain as Evan headed for the stairs. As soon as he was in his room, Evan threw himself down on the bed with a groan. He hated himself for all of it, for this…thing with Barty, for letting himself hurt him; and of course he was still turned on, of course he was thinking about Barty and the way Evan had felt inside of him. Conflicting emotions of disgust and arousal warred within him as he unbuttoned his jeans and tried to picture Barty, remember the feeling and at least get off. Why hadn’t he just let Barty do what he wanted in that car?
Evan closed his eyes, trying to force thoughts of Barty and not of his own self-hatred. Too caught up in his head, he couldn’t do anything past stroke himself aimlessly and ache for Barty’s touch again.
The next time Barty texted him, hoping to meet up, Evan could not bring himself to say no. He never could. This time, it was Barty’s own house, his parents away on business. Something about it felt too personal, and Evan waited in his car for what felt like a half hour before he got out and knocked on the door. The moment it opened, Evan was being pulled in and up the stairs to Barty’s room, pushed onto the bed.
“Missed you,” Barty murmured with a smirk as he kissed down Evan’s neck. Evan groaned and put his hands on Barty’s hips, pushing him away when he started biting into his skin, worried about the marks he might leave. Undeterred, Barty’s nimble fingers made for his jeans, and Evan lifted his hips almost against his will to let Barty pull them down along with his underwear. Then Barty’s mouth was on him, and he remembered again why he could not let him go, could not move on.
It was not until Evan was inside of him once more that he had to think. He could normally tune out his thoughts while he was with Barty. It was only afterwards that he started to regret it again. But even his dazed state could not drown out Barty’s words.
“I want you, Rosie,” he whined. “Be mine. Please. Please, Rosie.”
Evan’s movements faltered, his grip on Barty loosening, walls thrown up around him. Because sex was one thing, sex when Evan could pretend it was not about Barty but about a convenient fuck. This? Admitting that he wanted the same thing could only hurt him. It would be handing over his vulnerability and hoping Barty, famously not one for commitment or treating things gently, would be kind with it.
“Don’t say that shit,” Evan spat, hands tightening once more around Barty’s wrists.
And of course Barty obeyed, of course he shut up and took Evan’s harshness, because it was Barty. He liked getting hurt. Evan hated him for it and he loved him and he didn’t know what to do, with Barty underneath him making obscene sounds, didn’t know what to do with his own crude attempt at maintaining his aggression. Maybe he was trying to keep Barty away, maybe he was trying to tell him something that he was too scared to admit. In any case, Evan fled the moment Barty fell asleep, and threw up once he was home, promising himself that he would never do it again.
When Barty next texted him, he went. Every time Barty asked, Evan would be there. Every time, he would feel sicker for it.